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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280436">Le Dauphin et la Fantôme</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JojotheRadPenguin/pseuds/JojotheRadPenguin'>JojotheRadPenguin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>18th Century, Angst and Romance, Arranged Marriage, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Curse Breaking, Curses, Drama &amp; Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, French Characters, Ghost Stories, Ghost romance, Ghosts, Gothic, Gothic Romance, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Horror, Human/Monster Romance, Monsters, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, POV Female Character, Voodoo, Witch Curses, Witchcraft, gothic horror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:47:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JojotheRadPenguin/pseuds/JojotheRadPenguin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to escape an arranged marriage, Delphine Beaufay assumes the identity of a man and finds sanctuary upon The Tiger Lily, which is captained by the charming Wesley James.</p><p>But just as she's on the cusp of freedom, she gives her life for Wesley's when their ship is ambushed by a phantom crew of the living dead. Rather than killing her, a captain that's humanity--having long since rotted away--has transformed into nothing but a monstrous thirst for vengeance spares her life in exchange for her help in breaking their curse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armando Salazar/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Disguise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sharp kiss of metal connecting with metal rang out across the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tiger Lily’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> deck, out towards the greying horizon and up into the sapphire sky and beyond. The sound was followed by an abrupt </span>
  <em>
    <span>thwack</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a rapier’s blade against one’s back, and then a seething “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merde</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing her back, right where Wesley’s rapier slapped between her shoulder blades, Delphine scowled at her dueling partner. “Must you hit so hard?” She hissed, though her voice was made elegant by a French lilt despite her snarl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesley shrugged, his lips quirking into their usual boyish smirk and his deep green eyes blazing with mischief. “Fence better and I might </span>
  <em>
    <span>consider </span>
  </em>
  <span>stopping.” He said simply, shrugging once again. “Remember, sword-fighting is like a waltz: your sword,” using his blade, he tapped Delphine’s own rapier, once that was worn and rusted from years of use at sea, “is your partner, and you must allow your partner to lead,” he then leaned in close with another grin, revealing a smile that was missing an incisor, and said in a low voice so only she could hear, “Surely something you ought to be used to by now, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the harsh nature of his words, his tone was nothing but playful jest that made Delphine’s lips twitch into a smile and her brows rise with sudden worry. “Hush, you! You promised you would cease saying such things!” She cuffed his ear, adding onto his playful manner. Of every one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tiger Lily’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> crew, Wesley was the only one who knew of her female identity while everyone else on board only knew her as ‘Jaques Dubois’, a young man with aspirations of being a deckhand on a grand galleon, and Delphine preferred it if it remained that way. What crew--English, French, or pirate--would want to know they had a woman amongst them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tiger Lily</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a rather modest ship, boasting--but Delphine questioned if there was anything it could truly boast--ten guns, two masts, and a ragtag crew of pirates that only dared to steal from whatever shipwrecks scattered all across the Caribbean, making them nothing but a crew of mere scavengers, Delphine still held doubts that a woman, irregardless of social standing, would have been welcomed as a crewmember. If they would have ever seen through her façade, would the crew throw her overboard, leaving her to be mauled by sharks? Abandon her whenever they’d next make to port? Or--this was the thought that truly made her shudder--send her back to Saint-Domingue?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such worries were--moderately--calmed on the evening when Wesley had caught her crouched behind shipping crates, rebinding her chest in a vain attempt to hide her feminine figure, and he, much to her surprise, swore to keep her secret. And why he decided to maintain his silence, whether it was from a place of affection, monetary gain, or compassion, she did not know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, as they stood upon the ship’s quarterdeck,--the ship’s captain and the inexperienced deckhand--, Delphine grew more confident that the young captain’s promise to secrecy came from a place of friendship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alas, I only jest, my good </span>
  <em>
    <span>sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Wesley straightened himself, running the back of his hand across the chestnut-brown hair plastered across his forehead in damp tendrils. Despite the sweat glistening upon his cheeks and underneath his green eyes, Delphine’s cheeks flushed at his rather tough--nay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>adventurous</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- charm when he bent into a low bow, as if he were welcoming her to dance with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we continue this waltz of ours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling and casting a wary glance across the deck, affirming no one would have seen her when she dipped into a low curtsy. She quickly composed herself and rested her hand on her hip, easing herself into the fencing stance Wesley had shown her. “Whenever you are, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But just before Wesley could pierce the air with his blade, a frantic cry rang out from the crow’s nest, “Land! Two leagues to the north, Captain!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From up above, Pearce’s spyglass glinted sharply underneath the Caribbean sun as he brought it back up his wrinkled face once more. “It looks like Martinique!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sickening feeling suddenly clutched Delphine’s heart. Martinique. A French colony. A French colony filled with noblemen and merchants that would know her father, her mother, her brothers--her betrothed… In the back of her mind, she prayed that Wesley wouldn’t make her get off the ship when the crew would dock for supplies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking skyward, Wesley smiled with an eager glint in his eyes as he sheathed his blade in a single, fluid movement. “Perfect, a French colony!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine felt a sudden breath of pride that diminished her sickening feeling of worry hearing Captain Wesley James seem excited to be in the presence of the French, but it also pricked her curiosity when she asked with a slight smirk, “Perfect? Why is it perfect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced down at her and winked. “You will see.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crew--or at least most of them--had been gone for hours now, but Delphine rather enjoyed the solitude of sitting in the crow’s nest, taking in the air swollen by the scent of salt water, listlessly listening the sounds of cawing gulls mingling with the ambient noise of marketplace chatter on the decks below. And, most of all, she enjoyed that she was guaranteed safety there. No one could see her unless she wished them to, no one could snatch her away unless they decided to look up and search for her, and no one could assault her with nonstop orders. Up in this crow’s nest, upon the deck of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tiger Lily</span>
  </em>
  <span>,with her feet far away from touching land--</span>
  <em>
    <span>French</span>
  </em>
  <span> land--, she felt more freedom in the mere three weeks she had spent upon this ship than she had in all her twenty-two years of life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, weighing heavy in her palm, she held one of the very few remaining objects that had brought her a fleeting sense of happiness in a lifestyle that only desired to repress her desires and control her like a marionette strung on the strings of aristocracy. Her thumb swept across the medallion, caressing the faint image of a dolphin stamped into the gleaming silver and savoring the nostalgic chill seeping through her hand from her fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faintly, she smiled when the medallion forced memories to flood her brain. Childhood memories. Running across the lawn of her father’s manor and into the waiting arms of the servant girl Céleste… together, building their own makeshift ship out of rotting shipping crates behind the slave’s quarters, out of sight of Delphine’s mother… Céleste bringing her to the docks every Wednesday so she could see all the ships, the bustling marketplace, the dolphins that swam just outside Saint-Domingue’s port… All fond memories that left the dark pieces in a grey, merciful haze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine brought the medallion to her lips, pressing the cool medallion against her skin in a chaste kiss of reverence, cherishing these fading memories for a second longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rising voices and boots clicking against the deck below snapped her from the comforting sea of remembrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she peered out from her roost, her heart practically lunged into her throat when men all wearing the blue-and-red, gold-buttoned uniforms of French naval officers filed onto the deck. But after recognizing Wesley’s smile peeking out from the shadow of his plumed tricorn, Pearce’s awkward, peg-legged hobble, and the playful, howling chuckles of Seamus, Jenkins, and Webb, Delphine released a relaxed sigh and clambered down to join them on the deck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tilting her head, she approached her crewmates and said, her voice made slightly deeper, “What is with the uniforms, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mes amis</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She also noticed Pearce cradling a crumbled French flag, a flag of white that was decorated by a myriad of embroidered, golden fleurs-de-lis, against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Jaques!” Wesley took her arm and began to guide her to the captain’s quarters. In the crook of his free arm, she saw he held another uniform. “I’ve one for you, too!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He then yelled over his shoulder, “Get to work, the lot of you! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>! We need to get out of port before those officers realize what we’ve stolen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stolen?” Delphine gasped, her voice resuming its usual airy tone now that she was hidden within Wesley’s quarters. He didn’t answer her, but rather shoved the crumpled uniform into her arms. “But… </span>
  <em>
    <span>pourqoi</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking around her, he sat himself at a desk littered with maps that were strewn about more as decorative props rather than having a practical use. “A disguise, obviously!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disguise…?” She asked, pulling on the crimson pants and boots. As she buttoned the coat, she was silently grateful that Wesley brought her an oversized one that could hide her feminine figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile, for a brief moment, faltered, and then he nodded. “I’m...assuming you’re not all too familiar with our superstitions and legends of the sea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Non</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and leaned back in his chair; it groaned slightly under his weight. “When I was a young boy, my father told stories, from his days of sailing with the English navy, of a Spanish captain that bathed in--and </span>
  <em>
    <span>drank</span>
  </em>
  <span>--the blood of pirates… They said his thirst for blood twisted him into some sort of creature that was more animal than man, and damned his crew into becoming undead beasts like himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine shuddered, bracing a hand on the desk and the other over her chest. Barbaric tales always made her ill; imagining stories of savage beasts that thirsted human blood, fabled monsters that craved the taste of human flesh, and even--while simple in comparison--murders twisted her gut and chilled her blood. The swaying of the ship as they were cast back out into the Caribbean did nothing in aiding her frightened nausea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what does this have to do with disguises, Captain?” She braved to question, the ice in her blood sending a murmur through her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the color drained from his face as his eyes grew distant, looking upon what must have been legions of inter-generational horror stories passed between pirates and sailors alike. “They say this...captain,” he said the word with the disgusted grimace, as if the word was bitter upon his lip, “or at least the husk of who he--</span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- once was is prowling the seas once again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>butchering</span>
  </em>
  <span> pirates and making the waters run red with their blood. Sometimes…” he paused to swallow and close his eyes, sickened by whatever unseen horror flashed before him, “Sometimes I hear of these bodies being found by ships… washed ashore, being picked clean by carrion birds… they’re all described the same: their throats cut so deep that it’s a miracle their heads remained attached, their bodies open from jugular to bowels, innards spilling out--if their innards remained at all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grotesque images flashed in Delphine’s mind and robbed her of any breath. She trembled at the thought of being the sailor that discovered these violated corpses, to have come across these bodies that were butchered as if they were nothing but mere cattle… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another harsh swallow, Wesley attempted to compose himself and continued, “I want to protect my men… I want to protect </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I thought if we were to fly a French flag, wear French uniforms, we’d be safe from this--this </span>
  <em>
    <span>demon</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine stared at Wesley, or rather the man that sat in a hunched, crumpled heap over his desk. His shoulders shook and his eyes remained distant, still focused on these imaginary horrors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her initial horror of the story began to fade with a rather startling abruptness.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Why should I be so scared of mere superstitions? Of a </span>
  </em>
  <span>fabled </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster that drank the bloods of pirates? The only monsters that exist are the ones that live in the very depths of the sea and within the blackened heart of humans… right?</span>
  </em>
  <span> But as she looked over her captain, she wouldn’t dare discredit his fear and make him seem like a coward for fearing something--stories--he was raised to be apprehensive of, not after he had been nothing but understanding regarding her own fears of returning to land.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Capitain,” She whispered in a low tone and rested a tentative hand on his shoulder, hoping to bring him some comfort, “Why don’t you just remain on land if you are so afraid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he raised his head, and startled her at the sheer worry that filled his green eyes. “Because I knew you’re afraid of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he had a chance to finish his words, an explosion of frightened howls echoed from the deck, only to be followed by Seamus bursting through the door, his tousled head of black hair even more ruffled than normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine’s stomach dropped slightly when she saw the very same terror contorting and paling his features. “C-Captain!” He wheezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesley hastily rose, quickly hiding his fear behind his usual carefree air. “What’s going--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Half...Half a league to the east! We’re being hunted!” He shrieked. “Th-</span>
  <em>
    <span>They </span>
  </em>
  <span>found us!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Slaughter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Depictions of violence, blood, etc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Captain Wesley’s mask shattered, revealing that vulnerable boy that sat at the desk only mere seconds ago, and Delphine’s heart stuttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just by how Seamus wheezed the word ‘they’ she knew who was hunting them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But why should they be afraid? It was nothing more than a tale of a blood-thirsty Spaniard that haunted the seas as a vengeful lich. If anything, it was just a story to frighten children into obedience and to remain on land rather than venturing out to see and risking becoming pirates. Their attackers could have been fellow pirates that mistaken them for a French vessel; regardless, Wesley could have inadvertently damned them all and their supplies in the hull because of superstition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While she could deny a bloody ghost story, what Delphine couldn’t deny was the blatant fear on the two men’s faces and the screams of terror howling from the deck outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesley pushed her aside, hand poised over the hilt of his sword, and brusquely said, “Stay here, Del. Hide, and don’t come out, no matter what!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stay here? Hide? Be the compliant woman that’d willingly cower the way her mother had always expected her to be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine watched his departure with a gaping jaw, having no time to protest his orders before the door to the chamber slammed shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mere seconds after his departure, the sounds of conflict erupted outside: the battle cries of the crew as orders were barked across the deck, the quaking of the hull as the guns were fired, and then a sudden appearance of </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> that were followed by the firing of pistols and the clash of swords against swords.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Delphine drew closer to the door, she stifled a gasp when she heard some screams being abruptly cut off by harsh, sickening gurgles and then silence… a heavy, fatal silence. Through the cracks in the door, the stench of blood, smoke, gun powder, and burning flesh pierced her nostrils, making her blanch and reel backwards a step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an attack… an ambush, and it smelled as though their attacker, whomever these pirates were, had a hunger for carnage. But her blood suddenly chilled when she heard new shouts, new voices, through the door. They didn’t speak English or French… no, they spoke Spanish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>N-Non</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Delphine hissed--or was it a whimper? “They are just pirates! They are not ghosts! There is no such thing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as hesitation was beginning to freeze her in place and begged her to hide underneath Wesley’s desk, her hand gripped the hilt of her rapier and her jaw tightened. No. She couldn’t hide. She couldn’t be afraid. She couldn’t sit idle and allow her shipmates to be slaughtered while she’d cower in the corner like a puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In almost the same, stilted, movement, she unsheathed her sword, swung the door open, and she nearly vomited at the sight before her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tiger Lily</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s crew--or rather their carcasses--were strewn across a deck stained by their spilled blood, entrails, and viscera. Pearce, or at least what remained of him, looked as though he were mauled by a dog with his body mutilated almost beyond recognition if it weren’t for his peg-leg and spyglass dirtied by his blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grotesque gurgling to Delphine’s left drew her attention to Seamus slumped against the staircase leading up to the quarterdeck, still twitching, still alive. Alive and choking on the blood that bubbled forth from his lips and the gaping wound slashed across his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sharp gasp, nearly dropping her rapier, all Delphine’s body could do was stare at her crew mate as the life slowly bled from him. Her mind screamed at her to press her hands against his throat, to tear her coat apart and clean the wound, but her muscles weren’t brave enough to follow the commands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did, however, shakily kneel beside her friend, withholding the desire to vomit when she noticed how messily torn and brutal the gaping wound was. Her hands remained frozen at her side, and her sword quivered in her grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gurgling sound emanated from Seamus’s bloody lips as his arm shuddered, his vain attempt to speak, to tell her something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what? What is it?” She whispered, finally braving to press the end of her coat to his wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he said nothing, eyes only staring at something more horrific lying beyond her. Instead, he continued to gurgle as he made a weak gesture upwards to where she could hear a wail--Wesley’s wail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain!” She cried, regretfully abandoning Seamus as he had finally grown still, and hurried up onto the quarterdeck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesley’s words grew louder, his words rasping out dreadful pleas. “No, please… spare my crew…” He was weezing, as if past a throat filled with blood the way Seamus had done underneath Delphine’s fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horrific amalgamation of pain, horror, and sadness swelling his voice only forced Delphine’s legs to move faster up the stairs, only daring to pause when another voice gored the air above her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spare your crew?” The voice was a severe, hoarse snarl that was followed by laughter that was nothing but mocking. “You mean show you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mercy</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You dare hide your true, tainted selves underneath the flag of </span>
  <em>
    <span>los Franceses</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Have you no honor? What pirates parading underneath false colors deserve such mercy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the carnage that laid at the base of the wooden stairs, Delphine assumed that they were beyond any chance of mercy…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dared to continue her way up the stairs, the hand holding her sword shaking, and she finally peeked over the final step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly, her blood boiled at the scene before her: Wesley was kneeling in a pitiful heap upon the floor, two broad-shouldered men cloaked in grey shadow clutching his shoulders and immobilizing him. His face was marred by bloody scratches, his lip split and a gash running across his forehead. Beside him, his sword lay discarded, broken in half. He had lost a duel. A violent one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before him stood an immense figure, hunch-shouldered and quivering with some unholy rage. Though he looked to be draped in charred shadows, Delphine could faintly recognize that he wore a naval uniform, an aged one that looked to be more from the very beginning of the century. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when Delphine tried to recall the numerous books on Spanish maritime history that had filled her father’s study, she failed to recall the uniforms looking that black… and she certainly didn’t remember tailcoats and epaulettes floating upon the whispers of phantom winds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark creature snarled once more, the tip of a sword, still dripping in blood, pressed against Wesley’s glistening throat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Adiós</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pirata</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Delphine released an unholy shriek, bursting from her hiding place. She charged the hunch-backed shadow and pierced her sword through the air and towards his gut, ignoring any and all of Wesley’s instructions on proper dueling. There was no need for rules--or etiquette--now, just anything to save Wesley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swiped the shadow’s blade away in a harsh downward strike and shoved herself between the two in a vain attempt to shield Wesley from any further threats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as soon as the fight had begun, it was brought to a swift end when the shadow retracted his sword from Wesley’s throat and instead stabbed it upwards towards Delphine--towards her face--and she fell when the bloodied blade cleaved through skin and muscle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crumpled beside Wesley, too stunned to say or do anything other than gingerly touch the new wound that ran from her brow and down to her jawline. Crimson blood glistened on her pale fingertips when they came into contact with the heated liquid that began to ooze from the graze, soon obscuring her left eye under a filter of red. Wesley’s breath against the back of her neck was as searing as the blood leaking down her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above them, the shadow barked something she was too dazed  to comprehend, but it did make her look up at him. And, with the grotesque horror that snarled down at them, she wished she hadn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cold, mirthless eyes that were a sickly shade of yellow met her own, and the face in which they belonged to was even more cruel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It may have once been a strong, handsome face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Once</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Once upon a time, long ago… but now, all that remained was one that was the waxen, sickly grey corpse of a man that rotted in the water and was petrified by the sun. Emanating from a chasm of the darkest night where the back of a man’s head ought to have been were a labyrinth of blackened cracks, snaking across his pallid cheeks, flattened profile, and tickling the corners of lips dripping with blackened bile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine stared up at the creature with her lips parted in revolted horror, but no sound came out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wesley’s undead Spanish captain… the butcherer of pirates… It’s all real...</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought with a cold chill descending across her shoulders. This monster was no man… he wasn’t even a cruel, contorted carnation of a man. No, this was a monster, nothing more and nothing less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> For several silent moments, she was thankful for the strange manner, much like his coat and epaulettes, in which the inky black tendrils of his hair lazily drifted before his face, mercifully obscuring his gargoyle-ish features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he, too, stared down at her with his sneer, his heavy brow was scrunched with confusion at this odd little figure that laid before him. With golden hair cut far too short to be bound back with a ribbon and a French naval uniform, the creature seemed like a young boy. But when he took the tip of his sword and held it underneath her chin for a long moment before pressing it to her bloody cheek, and then her right, as if he were a hunter admiring a dying hind his hounds had cornered, he noted that, despite the bold scar nearly bisecting her beaky nose, her sunburnt cheeks held feminine angles. The naval uniform failed to mask the unmistakable feminine curves of her hips and chest and narrow shoulders. But he also took note of the expensive number of earrings decorating her ears--mimicking the same manner in which her captain had his own ears mutilated--and the silver medallion strung across her collarbone. Such expensive jewelry would be worth a great deal… There would be many who would do anything for this manner of jewelry...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” The little creature spoke, momentarily stunning him, her light, French tone affirming his suspicions of her female identity. The fear in her brown eyes was still blazing, but it was just beginning to give way to whatever stupid boldness had possessed her to attack him in the first place. “Kill me! Kill me, but spare him!” She demanded, her bloody hand traveling behind her to grasp the one of her captain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Del… Delphine… Don’t…” Wesley wheezed against her neck, his weight beginning to slump into hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The disfigured captain barked another harsh, mocking laugh, which was mimicked by the two officers immobilizing Wesley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Delphine noticed, with much the same horror, were both greying, cracked gargoyles of rotting, ashy flesh like their captain. Their laughter rang more like the cackling crows of starving carrion birds in Delphine’s ears than the empty chuckles of human men--if these ‘men’ even deserved to be called human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why would I want to do that?” The captain snarled, and Delphine inwardly gagged at the surge of black bile that dribbled down his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because this is my fault.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Delphine’s brain howled to her. She would have flinched at the venomous scolding of her inner voice, but her inner voice was right. All of this </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> her fault… Wesley and the crew of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tiger Lily</span>
  </em>
  <span> would have been safe--</span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>--if they had remained in port and on the safety of land. But, no. Wesley didn’t wish to dismiss her fears and wished to indulge in her desire to remain out at sea. He put her own needs before that of his crew… but now their bodies, their blood, littered the deck below, and it was all her fault…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze had fallen from the captain’s golden eyes, but the tip of his sword coaxed her to return it upward. To her disgust, he brought his face closer to hers, his ice-cold breath, stinking of rot, congealed blood, and bile, and his eerie locks of hair tickling her cheeks and lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pequeña</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine’s lips worked to form words, but whatever boldness that had seized her dissipated underneath the captain’s predatory gaze--as well as the lightheaded sensation that was beginning to plague her--and she remained silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The captain snorted and his lips contorted into yet another scowl. “Take her aboard!” Both the serrated tone and the words of his order took Delphine by surprise. But when she tried to stand and protest, she couldn’t raise herself past her knees before the potent combination of shock, loss of blood, and pure terror forced her back down and threatened to snap her from consciousness in that very instant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W...Wait...” Wesley mewled when the two specters imprisoning him took hold of her. The undead captain evaded around the little woman, only to glower back down at Wesley as he began to cry out, his arm reaching for her but only to have it slapped away by the captain’s tainted sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phantoms’ deadened, cold hands pierced through Delphine’s coat and bit her skin with unforgiving bitterness, but that didn’t stop her from being swallowed by a painful, crimson darkness.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some shiz went down.... 0.0</p><p>I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to comment or share, and come say hi on my Tumblr and Insta!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cristián</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Gentle sunlight filled the courtyard, kissing the forests of roses encasing the bases of marble statues with its golden rays. The distant scent of the Caribbean and the caws of gulls fluttered into the garden and tickled their ruby-red petals. Beyond the garden, beyond the sea of roses, sat an immense house curling around this floral paradise with its halls filled with gilded staircases, angelic statues of gold, towering bookshelves, and the whispers of petticoats against the marble floors.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At a glance, the garden and its sprawling castle almost appeared serene, as if it were an image that sprung straight out from a fairy tale story. But the rising voices of boys rough-housing rose from within the courtyard’s emerald-and-ruby-colored depths.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A young girl, no older than six or seven, was following these voices with a wide smile brightening a plump face framed by golden ringlets. In one hand, she held the floral-patterned skirts of her white morning dress, while in the other she gripped a makeshift sword, one made from broken and sanded pieces of shipping crates.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maxime! Louis!” She called out as she ran faster along the emerald maze of trimmed hedges until they gave way to a yawning glade shadowed by towering palm trees, more hedges, and a mountainous fountain depicting voluptuous mermaids and sea nymphs pouring crystalline water from the jugs balanced in their palms.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At the base of the fountain, right on the bubbling water's edge, two boys, easily five and ten years the girl's senior, were thrusting fencing swords into each other's guts, only stopping to laugh in triumph whenever one of them landed a blow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The eldest of the two, the one with curled hair a light shade of brown and limbs far too long when compared to his rotund body, immediately lost his smile when he noticed the girl approaching.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want?” He said in a voice sharpened with a snarl of annoyance, burying the tip of his sword into the path of white pebbles underneath his feet and leaned against it, as if it were a gentleman’s walking cane.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other boy, a boy who was far more rotund with even curlier brown hair, mimicked the gesture, his sword bending slightly under his weight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathless from her run through the garden and from sheer excitement, the girl held her wooden saber up, almost as if in triumph. “I wanted to fight with you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Immediately, the boys barked out a harsh laugh that made her smile falter, but only slightly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The eldest, Maxime, finally controlled his hyena-ish laughter and sighed, or rather sneered, “Ah, didn’t Maman tell you you are not allowed to fight with us, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Petit Fardeau</span>
  <em>
    <span>?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Louis, the youngest, chuckled and echoed, “</span>
  </em>
  <span>Oui</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Petit Fardeau</span>
  <em>
    <span>! Maman says you gotta stay indoors!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Oui</span>
  <em>
    <span>…” Maxime suddenly snarled, dangerously. He took a step towards the girl, his round lips curled. He lightly poked the tip of his sword into her chest harsh enough to make her take a step backwards. “Stay inside!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“B-But…” The girl stammered, “I want to play!” She held up her sword of broken wood again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maxime studied her for a moment with his blue eyes narrowed, calculating, before shrugging. “</span>
  </em>
  <span>D’accord</span>
  <em>
    <span>,” He rested a pale hand on his waist and leveled the end of his sword with the girl’s face while donning something of a malicious grin. “Let us play.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The girl’s whole body quivered in excitement as she hastily positioned herself into a similar, though somewhat clumsy, stance. “Okay! Ready--”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had no time to prepare herself before Maxime lunged towards her, a feral spark blazing in his eyes. He swiped away the girl’s toy sword, sending it soaring across the green lawn, and then slashed it back towards her face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pressing her tiny hands against her face, the girl reeled back with a sharp gasp. Moments later, thin rivulets of crimson leaked out from between the fingers of her white paws, followed by whimpers of confusion when she brought her hands away and saw her palms filled with blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maxime released a harsh chuckle, catching the girl’s attention, and stepped closer with a slight swagger. “Shall we go again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Petit Fardeau</span>
  <em>
    <span>?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rather than producing a comprehensible answer, the young girl only dropped her bloody face into her even bloodier palms with a sharp whimper.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maxime’s face contorted with a scowl and his lips moved to form harsh words, but a new voice entered the gardens, quickly startling him and Louis.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Beneath her whimpers, the girl couldn’t make out the woman’s words, nor could she hear her half-brothers’ frantic footsteps scrambling away down the gravel path.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Miss Delphine!” This new voice cried before warm hands tried to coax the girl’s away from her face. “Come on, </span>
  </em>
  <span>mademoiselle</span>
  <em>
    <span>, let me see…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sunlight and a large pair of dark brown eyes filled with pure worry greeted Delphine when she finally pulled her hands away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Mon Dieu</span>
  <em>
    <span>!” The girl, only about sixteen years of age and with skin the same color of melted chocolate, cried and used the end of her sleeve to dab away the wound splitting the skin of Delphine’s nose bridge. “Oh,I swear,  those boys are absolute animals… There we go. It’s just a scratch…” She cooed, discarding a handkerchief from her apron pocket and scraping away any chips of dried blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally pushing past her whimpering, the girl managed, “I just wanted to play…” She lazily gestured to her discarded toy, and Céleste regarded it with a saddened glance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah… we worked hard to make that…” She murmured, and Delphine nodded in bereaved agreement.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Without warning, Céleste rose and abandoned Delphine in order to go to a nearby hedge, where she rummaged through the spaces between the green leaves until she yelled in triumph and pulled out a stick just thick enough to make a good sword. She then retrieved Delphine’s toy and held it out towards her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let us play, then!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But before Delphine could take the toy, or even smile in newfound excitement, the scene began to blur...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It began to blur into a haze of greens, golds, reds, and blues until it began to be replaced by a morbid haze of grey…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>#</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sharp shriek escaped past Delphine’s lips the moment her eyes snapped open to be greeted by a sky blackened by a heavy overcast. It wasn’t the overcast that raised the scream from her, however, but rather the two piercing eyes of gold that peered down at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she rose to escape the crack-faced, grey-skinned ghoul, a hand colder than death tentatively pressed against her chest and urged her back down. “Easy, Señorita," the gentleness of not only the touch, but also the voice stunned Delphine. “You may still be feeling lightheaded, but, fortunately, the cut is just a mere flesh wound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where am I?” She whimpered, her eyes hastily tearing away from this ghost, though the sight that laid before her was no less grotesque. She was on the deck of a ship, that much she could tell, but it was a ship that was more of a dilapidated husk of a once-grand galleon rather than something that could functionally sail the seas. The visible, yawning gaps on the deck revealed the absence of a hull, instead revealing the frothing, angry sea underneath, sending another wave of nausea coursing through Delphine’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, she was separated from the rotting wood by what seemed to be a makeshift nest of folded, rotting sails. When she tried to sit up again, the ghost doing nothing to stop her this time, she also noticed how she was no longer wearing her bloody French naval uniform, but rather a blackened--scorched--shirt, trousers, and boots far too large for her. A dull ache resonated from the whole left side of her face and when she brought her fingers up to graze the scratch connecting her blond brow and jaw, she cringed at the memory of its origin. She cringed even further when she remembered who gave it to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you don’t mind such large clothes, I have no use for night clothes anymore, as you may plainly see,” The ghost said in a tone that hinted at a smile, though he recoiled, almost as if in shame, when she looked back at him. He seemed to have been an older ghost with his naval uniform, as rotting as his captain’s, straining to contain a somewhat portly form. Though his spectral eyes of gold held a gentle glimmer, Delphine couldn’t help but remain transfixed on the half of his face that was blasted away, perhaps by cannon-fire some long time ago, consuming the entirety of the right half of his jaw and temple. Beneath the burnt remnants of ashy skin, Delphine saw sinewy tendons stretched over blackened teeth and even blacker gums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, despite his rather startling deformities, she felt some sort of relief with this ghost’s tenderness, at least when compared to his crew-mates’ and captain’s lack thereof. “Oh…” She lightly touched the collar of her shirt, ignoring its smell of rot in order to feel some grateful comfort. “Thank you, Monsieur…” her voice trailed, prompting for this ghost’s name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dipped his head, his hand of cracked skin, tipping the tip of his half-burnt hat in a polite, chaste gesture. “Cristián, Señorita.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And thank you for,” Delphine lightly traced her fingers over the wound over her eye, wincing when it sent another burning ache across her jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cristián smiled again, “But of course! It feels rather exciting to relish in my old talents again… You see, back in Spain, I used to be--” but he abruptly cut himself and a haze of distant memory shielded his eyes and sagged his old features. When he next looked at Delphine, it concerned her the sudden expression of pity his eyes had adopted. “Anyways… Come,” He stood, a process that took a surprising long time, and offered a cold hand to Delphine. “I had orders to bring you to el Capitán the moment you woke up…”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Feel free to leave a comment or Kudos!! </p><p>Feel free to come chat with me on Tumblr and Insta! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Wolfish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As Cristián lead her across the deck, occasionally offering her a guiding elbow whenever they came across another pit revealing the frothing ocean below the hollow hull, Delphine couldn’t ignore the sickening sensation that she was being lead to her death, to the yawning maw of a great beast that would swallow her in a single gulp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ice-cold fingers of fear strangled her heart until the pain began to resonate throughout her chest with every step closer they took towards the captain’s quarters, and the predacious eyes of the half-rotting, practically bodiless, ghostly crew following her every step--every </span>
  <em>
    <span>movement</span>
  </em>
  <span>--brought her no ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men watching her weren’t even men, but rather crude imitations of man. Some of them were like Cristián, missing halves of their faces, but there were others with gaping holes in their chest, missing limbs, or not even hardly having a body at all. While their deformities were never the same, they all shared ghostly faces the color of ashen wood with shreds of their former selves fluttering about them like morbid butterflies and eyes the most unsettling shade of yellow. When Delphine’s gaze met the eyes of a deckhand missing the entirety of his torso, their color only reminded her of a drunkard’s vomit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally--thankfully--, they reached the door of the captain’s quarters and when Cristián made a start to </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk through</span>
  </em>
  <span> the closed plank of rotting wood (what use did a ghost need to open a door?), but he abruptly paused when remembering the living woman at his elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He repeated the motion of tipping his hat with the smoothness of an aged gentleman, “Ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>perdone, Señorita</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He then opened the door and stepped aside so Delphine could step around his rotund frame and enter the quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room beyond the door may have once been the rather glamorous quarters of an even more glamorous captain, having once been filled with plush furniture and desks sculpted from fine, oaken wood, portraits of various Spanish nobles, and myriads of maps that’d litter every available bookshelf and tabletop. Though now, much like the ship, it was nothing more than a rotting husk, disfigured by wood warped by water, fire, and mildew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, like vultures hunched over carrion, several more ghosts--including the captain, as monstrous as Delphine remembered--surrounded a desk overflowing with maps worn from decades--perhaps even centuries?--of use. When they parted, she nearly wretched all over the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underneath the maps, all haphazardly slung across the desk, are coats. But not just typical jackets or the tattered uniforms of the spectral crew, they were bloodied uniforms. The uniforms her crewmates had worn when death stared them right in the eyes while he cruelly snatched their lives away with his own cold, merciless talons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Delphine could do was stare at the crumpled, bloody, massacred uniforms in abject horror, her mouth hanging agape but yet remaining silent, no screams, no wails, no cries. Just silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chuckle, harsher than the rusted edges of a jagged blade, eroded away at the silence as a hand greyer than the most rotted of stone graced across the bloody heap; to Delphine, it wasn’t the hands of a former man, but rather the talons of a gargoyle. “Beautiful, eh? The skins of honor-less </span>
  <em>
    <span>piratas</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” The spectral Captain sneered, his lips teasing a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The manner in which he stood, his weight seemingly supported upon a sword as if it were a cane, reminded Delphine of a bull with how his shoulders were hunched and his muscled coiled with a poisonous, destructive fury. It was as if his body begged for him to fall down and walk on all fours like the animal he was, but his sword-cane wouldn’t allow it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at her, awaiting her answer, staring at her with eyes a sickly shade of yellow. Eyes that were dangerous… venomous… </span>
  <em>
    <span>wolfish</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-You killed them,” Delphine finally croaked and winced as the memories of Pearce and Seamus’s mutilated bodies cursed her brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Captain’s hollow laugh was a triumphant cackle as he patted the bloodied coats as if they were merely the pelts of hinds. “I believe a more fitting word would be… exterminate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why?” She suddenly felt Cristián’s cold hand lightly brush against her elbow, as if warning her against prodding the Captain with any questions. “What did </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> do wrong?” She wanted to emphasize ‘we’... They were her crewmates, she was one of them! These phantoms targeted </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The wound over her eye suddenly burned, as though the infection was festering because of her newly mounting hatred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You pirates are an infection! Vermin! I am merely doing my duty and keeping these seas purified!” The Captain snarled, continuing his lopsided, hobbling pacing. “What’s more is you lacked honor!” Once again, he violently grasped a bloody coat sleeve so golden buttons muddied by dried blood dully glimmered underneath the grey light spilling in from the massive window framing the Captain’s hunched frame like broken wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Wesley was only trying to protect us!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because I was a coward who refused to go on land…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Captain suddenly grinned an evil smile that sent a chill slithering down Delphine’s spine. “Ah, so Wesley was his name…” He suddenly extended a rotting claw, beckoning for her to come to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine remained frozen, determined on not moving. She’d rather be butchered like a pig than stand close to this creature. But then Cristián’s lifeless hand brushed against her arm once more, and when she looked up at him, his golden eyes held a warning look that was intermingled with that of pity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every inch of Delphine’s being was shivering, and she prayed the Captain couldn’t see it, as she stepped around the desk, casting wearing glances at the spectral officers pressed against the quarter’s walls, and finally to the Captain’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered when his whole hand cupped her shoulder and pulled her even closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know why you are alive, standing here right now, still breathing and your heart still beating?” He whispered in a low growl while hand left her shoulder and slithered into his coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine resisted the urge to gag when his stench of death and petrified flesh permeated her nose and more black bile leaked from his lips. “No, but if it involves my death, I would prefer for my death to come swiftly…” To add to her statement, her eye donning her new wound winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” The Captain purred, his hand now emerging from his coat, something silvery dangling from his black claws. Delphine’s eyes shot up and her hands flew to her throat as she made a small, choking gasp when she recognized the image of a dolphin stamped into the silver. It was her medallion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-That is mine!” She squeaked and lunged for the charm, but was swiftly stopped by the Captain’s sword swatting her away and his hand holding it far too high for her to reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no doubt about it… most likely stolen from a woman of finery,” He said, pretending to examine it with the eye of a jeweler. He then glanced at her with his sickly-colored eyes and raised his sword so that the tips of it could tap the earrings dangling from her ears. “These, too, I assume are stolen… they seem to be of great value…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine swallowed, her whole body quivering underneath this beast’s claws… he, too, was a pirate. Not some vigilante purifying the seas. Not some Spanish hero sent from god to smite evil. No, a pirate. No! Not a pirate! A creature more vile, more beastly than a pirate!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes finally settled on her face and the medallion intertwined with his claws shivered when he gestured to himself and the colleagues filling the room. “As you can plainly see, we are all victims of a curse, one we need broken. And you...you are still blessed with the ability to walk on land…” For a brief moment, Delphine swore she caught a flicker of envy in those rotting pools of yellow, “You are to use these treasures--these </span>
  <em>
    <span>stolen </span>
  </em>
  <span>treasures--to find someone, some</span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to break this curse. And,” his sword tapped a bloody coat’s golden buttons, “I’m quite these could be of value.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine’s brain was clouded, and her head was swimming with sheer confusion that threatened to kill her if she tried to puzzle the Captain’s words. “You wish to use me for bribery, to bribe some stranger for a way to break your curse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the very first time, a different ghost spoke up: the one that donned an eyepatch said in a tone that shocked Delphine with its steely coolness, “Not just strangers, </span>
  <em>
    <span>señorita</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Witches. Sorceresses--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Brujas</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” Another ghost, one that Delphine could tell was much younger than herself, underneath the cracked, deformed skin of his face, whimpered with his eyes cast to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes. We are returning to Martinique as we speak. You will search the colony for anyone who can help with this curse. Use these treasures of yours to bribe, as you so perfectly put it.” The Captain snarled, his claws releasing the medallion into Delphine’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But her mind was still reeling and far too muddied to even notice she had regained possession of her precious medallion. Witches? There was no such thing! Witches were figments of fairy stories meant to keep children from wandering to places they ought not to be and to obey the orders of their parents, not people of flesh and blood who could break curses just as easy as placing them. However, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>speaking to the captain of a crew of phantoms… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to mention they were forcing Delphine to return to land… to a French colony… She shuddered and felt ill again and was (somewhat) grateful for the desk to brace herself against. But was remaining trapped on a ship of phantoms any better? The Captain mentioned how he and his crew were unable to walk on land… she could just run away!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I refuse?” She finally asked, her tone quivering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, come, come,” He gestured for her, but he didn’t wait for her to step closer before seizing her shoulder, pulling her against his chest, and turned her face to look out the massive window with the tip of his sword. “Look, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pequeña delphín</span>
  </em>
  <span>, look to the horizon…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Using his sword-cane. He pointed to something that indeed was on the horizon: A small black form that almost looked like a black swan demurely floating on the gentle waters in the gardens of Versailles. But when Delphine squinted, she could make out the vague silhouette of tattered sails of a small, but proud galleon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered when the Captain’s head nestled against her throat and his black mane of ethereal hair tickled her cheeks like tentacles of ice. A drop of the blackened, congealed dripped from his lips and splattered onto her shoulder. The heavy, wet coldness seeped through the cloth of Cristián’s shirt, making Delphine gasp with a disgusted cry. But when she felt his head shift, perhaps to look at her, she focused her gaze on the distant ship, ignoring the growing weight of the spot of blood on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is your precious Captain Wesley… still alive…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grateful wheeze escaped Delphine’s lips as they curved into a grin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He is alive! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dieu merci,</span>
  <em>
    <span> he is alive!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But whatever hope she held for Wesley’s safety was halted when the Captain’s cold, wheezing words were suddenly in her ear, “Refuse me and that will all change… refuse me and I will string you dear lover’s carcass from the masts before you can dare draw a sword on me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delphine’s chest tightened and her heart seized. So escape would be futile… hiding on land would be useless… and she couldn’t live with being the cause of Wesley’s death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we have a deal now, no, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>delphín</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Find me a witch to break our curse, and your </span>
  <em>
    <span>pirata</span>
  </em>
  <span> lover shall live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his claws tightened on her shoulder and his reeking breath continued to chill her face, Delphine suppressed a whimper. She had to choose between her life and Wesley’s, but she had already chosen that when she threatened the Captain back on </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Tiger Lily</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the reflection of the window, she caught Cristián’s half-corroded face contorted with an expression of worry. Oh, how she wished to break free of the Captain so she could hide in Cristián’s arms… so hide from the Captain’s horrid gaze behind his portly figure… to just feel protected in this hell--this </span>
  <em>
    <span>purgatory</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, despite this screaming desire for comfort and to hide from fear, she inhaled deeply and stepped away from the Captain in order to face him and his ghastly, wolfish eyes and smirk. “It is a deal,</span>
  <em>
    <span> mon capitaine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yall I wrote this late at night after writing an essay on the geomorphology and ecology of Bolivia and another on the British women's suffrage movement... I'm brain dead!!<br/>And, uh... Cristian may or may not be loosely based on Guillermo del Toro... &gt;_&gt;</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi!!! I'm super excited to be writing this fic!!! Please feel free to comment/kudos/share!</p><p>Also, come say hi on my Tumblr (JojotheRadPenguin) or my Instagram (Jojo_the_Rad_Penguin)!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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